


True Emotions

by ChocoNut



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Post-Season/Series 07, misunderstanding leading to confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 09:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Post S7, Jaime meets Brienne at Winterfell and gets back to teasing her as usual. But Brienne doesn’t take it well, resulting in a misunderstanding and one thing leads to another.





	True Emotions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hardlyfatal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlyfatal/gifts), [justme (silver_spring)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_spring/gifts).



> Thank you so much hardlyfatal for being a wonderful beta and showing immense patience in me !  
> This one is also for justme - Thank you so much for motivating me to start writing :) . It's because of all you lovely ladies of JBO that I got into JB writing !

Brienne watched from her window as Jaime rode through the gates of Winterfell. He looked different, hair longer than usual, and the beard he now sported reminded Brienne of the first time she had met him. She smiled to herself as it brought back memories of their travel. He had been her prisoner then, dressed in rags and covered in mud most of the time, but his presence never failed to set her heart aflutter. He looked older now, hair greying at the temples and flecks of silver in his beard, but no less handsome than he always was.

_Who wants to die defending a Lannister?_ she had thought when she first saw him. Little did she know, then, that she would grow to care deeply for this Lannister.

It was Sansa's name day, and the family had decided to have a little celebration that night. Nothing too lavish, as they were short on resources, just a little excuse to brighten up a grim, war-ridden atmosphere. Everyone, except Brienne, was looking forward to it. She had always been socially awkward since the time Renly had to defend her from the boys at her name day celebration.

She did fancy Renly once, as Jaime had correctly gauged. Those feelings were gone, now, replaced by… what, exactly? She couldn't quite explain what she felt for Jaime. Something deep, something she couldn’t quite ignore. _First Renly_ , she thought, _and now Jaime_. _Why_ _did she have to lose her heart, yet again, to a man who would never reciprocate her feelings?_

_But you love him._

Cersei's words came back, ringing. Brienne had stood rooted to the spot for a moment after hearing them. _Had Cersei spoken the truth?_ That was the moment when Brienne had first comprehended her feelings for Jaime. With an aching heart, she had eventually dismissed all such thoughts, as she knew that she had no hope as far as Jaime’s love was concerned. He had eyes only for one woman. No one could replace Cersei in his heart.

Reality was harsh. Handsome men like Jaime were never attracted to ugly women like her. Resigned to that fact, she convinced herself that she would dedicate her life to a purpose, to be a knight and serve. She would serve Sansa as long as life would permit her to, and her feelings for Jaime would forever lie buried in her heart, her secret.

“I would be happy if you wore this dress tonight,” Sansa said, interrupting Brienne’s thoughts. “It will go well with your eyes.” She handed Brienne an elegant blue gown similar to the one she had worn at Joffrey's wedding.

“Of course, my lady.” Brienne said with a smile. She was not very enthusiastic about wearing a dress, but she didn’t want to disappoint Sansa, either.

She didn't get a chance to see Jaime that day. He didn’t ask to meet her. Ignoring the pang she felt at knowing he had other, more important priorities, Brienne looked out of the window and realized it was almost dusk. She had to get dressed for dinner, though she wasn’t too keen on changing into the dress. But she had promised Sansa she would wear it, and so she did.

As she reached the hall, friends and family had already gathered, eating and drinking the night away. Brienne stood awkwardly next to Sansa, feeling terribly out of place in her attire.

She stole a glance at Jaime and caught him looking at her at the same time. He walked towards her with his usual swagger, which always managed to get her pulse racing. She was embarrassed at the effect he had on her and hoped he hadn’t noticed her blushing.

He bowed, took her hand and kissed it. Her heart skipped a beat as his lips brushed against her skin. “My lady,” he greeted her. “It is good to see you again. You are well?”

“I am, Ser Jaime, thank you. I trust you are fine, too.”

Jaime nodded. “You're wearing a dress,” he observed, looking at her from top to toe. Brienne nervously shifted her weight from one foot to another, suddenly alarmed that everyone might be staring at her. The stupid dress made her feel clumsy and ungainly.

“You don't look half as bad as you did in the hideous pink one at Harrenhal. I suppose any man who sees you today is bound to ask you for your hand in marriage,” Jaime said, with the mocking expression he usually wore whenever he decided to make her the target of his humour.

Brienne had not borne the brunt of his scathing remarks in a long time, and the shock of it gave her a jolt. She’d thought, after the lingering looks he gave her during their farewells, that perhaps… but no. _He still thinks I am ugly._ She looked away from him, her heart sinking at the knowledge.

“Jaime!” called Tyrion. “Do you remember that time--”

Jaime compressed his lips, clearly displeased to be called away.

“Your brother’s waiting for you,” Brienne told him. He looked fixedly at her a moment longer, then gave her a short nod and turned away.

Upset with his remarks, and in no mood to stay on, she decided to return to her chambers.

Back in her room, she lay on her bed without bothering to change out of the dress. She stared up at the ceiling, eyes burning, but dry, her mind in a state of turmoil. This was nothing new. She was used to people calling her ugly. And Jaime had never missed a chance to taunt her in the past. She had taken no offence to him then.

But over time, and over the years that she had known him, she had begun to think that his opinion about her had changed; that, unlike other men, he saw more to her than her physical appearance. Today was an indication that she had been wrong about that.

There was a knock on her door. She ignored it, in no mood for company.

Jaime's voice called out, “I know you’re in there, Brienne, and I know you are awake. Can you open the door?” Jaime continued pounding on the door. “Brienne, please! I want to talk to you.”

She lay there, silent and confused, making no move toward letting him in.

“If you don't open the door, I'm going to break it open,” he finished, and she realized that he sounded peculiar, unlike his usual crisp speech.

Brienne forced herself off the bed and, after a steadying breath, opened the door. “You really think you can break open the door with one hand?”

Jaime sauntered past to enter her chamber. “Why did you leave so abruptly?” he asked, ignoring her question.

As he walked by her, she caught a whiff of alcohol wafting off him. Peering closer, she saw that his eyes had gone glassy, as well: he was drunk. Even so, he seemed coherent enough to be in his senses.

“I wasn't feeling very well,” she said when he raised his brows, wordlessly demanding a reply.

“Should I ask Tarly to check?” Jaime asked her, concerned. He reached forward to place his palm on her forehead to check for a fever.

She backed away from him immediately.

“No, I'll be fine. It's just a headache.” She avoided looking at him, averting her eyes to anywhere else.

Jaime searched her face. “You're upset. What is it? Did someone say anything to hurt you?”

“Seven hells,” she muttered, her irritation at him reaching its peak, “you really don’t see how caustic your humour is, do you?”

“It's me, is it?” He looked directly into her eyes. “You're upset with _me_. What did I say?” He offered her a faint smirk. “This time?”

But she said nothing. Even more embarrassing than his mockery was letting him know he had the power to hurt her.

“Well, go on, ” he insisted, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Out with it.”

Brienne huffed and decided she had little to lose by being honest. “Earlier… you were being sarcastic about me. Why? Do you still think it is amusing to insult my looks?”

“It was a joke, Brienne,” he said defensively. “Can’t a man have a laugh? I didn't mean to insult you. I just meant… I meant that you looked different. It's not often that I see you in a dress, is it? And I have made fun of you so many times. You were never offended... then. I doubt you even paid any attention to all that I said in the past. Why are you so hurt now?”

Her chin quivered, as it always did whenever she was on the verge of tears. She swallowed back unshed tears and said, “You could've told me straight away that I look ugly, like you always did. You were never one to be subtle with your insults. And it is obvious that that was what you meant.”

“Brienne, I never said you look ugly.” Jaime looked exasperated.  “You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Well, that's what you implied. You never miss a chance to criticise me, to ridicule my appearance. And I was a fool to think your opinion of me went beyond my looks, after what we’ve endured together. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Brienne…” Jaime protested, his voice getting louder. “That is _not_ what I meant.”

He was almost shouting, frustration and alcohol taking control of him. Brienne felt tired, heartsore, and wanted nothing more than to put an end to this conversation before it became a drunken alternation between them.

“I think you should leave, ser. I understood perfectly well what you meant.”

“Fine,” he snapped. “I do think you look awful in this dress. You are ugly, and I'm glad you understood how I really feel.” He took a step toward the door before pausing, tossing back over his shoulder, “And don’t cry, Brienne. Tears make you look even worse.” He left, slamming the door shut behind him.

Brienne was stunned at his outburst. When he had come after her, she had-- naively-- hoped he would apologise, that he would tell her that he didn't mean it the way she thought he did. His onslaught of further insults made her feel even worse. She went back to bed, trying to force herself to get some sleep, but it would not come.

At the crack of dawn, Brienne got out of bed, not having slept a wink. Exhaustion weighed down her eyelids and her thoughts were all in a muddle. She longed for some fresh air and decided to go for a walk in the woods near the castle. Quietly leaving the castle, she wandered around without purpose or goal, wondering when she had become so vulnerable to her own emotions. She suspected that it was around the same time she had realized that Jaime was not the honourless kingslayer she had taken him for. The irony of it made her lips quirk in a humourless smile.

And, of course, that was when she heard Jaime call her name. She turned, watching as he approached. He looked haggard, as if he, too, had not slept all night. His hair was unruly,  his eyes bloodshot. As he drew closer, her heart gave its usual traitorous thump at his nearness and she turned away, walking in the opposite direction at a brisk pace. She was not interested in continuing last night’s unpleasant exchange.

“Brienne, wait. Listen to me.” When she continued walking away, he grabbed her arm. “ _Please_. Give me a chance to speak.”

He was actually pleading with her, something she had never expected to see in her lifetime, and it surprised her into pausing.

He took the opportunity and spoke quickly. “I'm sorry. I was drunk last night. I lost control of what I was saying. It wasn't really meant to come out that way.”

Brienne felt a prickle of tears behind her eyes, to her horror. She blinked rapidly in hopes of keeping them from falling. “How was it meant to come out, then?” When he didn’t answer, she pushed harder. “ _Say_ it. People speak the truth when drunk.”

But he only stared at her, and her patience ebbed at last.

“You really don't think much of me, do you?” She couldn’t hold back a bitter little smile. “I don't blame you. All your life, you have been surrounded by pretty maids. You’re not used to having to look at such as me. Compared to--” _Cersei_ , her heart whispered, but she said, “-- _them_ , I know what you think of me.”

Still he said nothing. She felt cold all over, face and body and heart and soul. “Anyway, I do not wish to continue this subject anymore, ser. I’m returning now.”

She turned to go back to the castle, but Jaime did not let go of her arm. “I have always been this way with you, Brienne. My comments have never bothered you before. So why now?”

He studied her face for a long, silent moment, and for once, she stood her ground as he examined her, and did not turn away. _Damn his perceptive eyes,_ she thought, _noticing everything._ _And damn my own, for hiding nothing. He’ll see, and--_

“You care for me, Brienne, don’t you? That's why you are hurt. You care for me, and what I think of you.”

Brienne was livid, anger now replacing the hurt and sadness. She pushed away his hand roughly.

“And so what if I do? How does it matter to you? All your life, you have loved only one woman. I don't think you are completely over her, even when you have broken all ties between you. It changes nothing. So do you think my… having feelings... for you is going to make any difference to me?”

She saw the shocked expression on Jaime’s face at Cersei’s mention, and he opened his mouth to speak, but she had a lot more to say, now that the dam was broken.

“In our entire time together, all you did was insult me. Now, don't misunderstand me, ser; I am grateful you saved my honour, and my life, and I thank you for it, but I know that you saved me because you are a knight. You couldn't leave a lady behind to die. Your conscience didn’t permit you to do that. That's why you came back for me at Harrenhal.” She let out a weary sigh. “I only wish I had realized this before I read too much into your actions.”

She paused, but only enough for her to catch her breath. “I should have known that once we were back at King's Landing, whatever rapport we had built would end as life went back to normal for you. You had returned to the love of your life, whereas I was still looking for a purpose. When you gave me the Oathkeeper, I thought... well, it doesn't matter, anymore, what I thought.”

Out of words, she stared defiantly at him, sure he would be glaring at her, but instead Jaime give her a look which she couldn't quite fathom.

“Is that all, Brienne? Can I say something now?” His unusually soft tone silenced anything she might have said. “Cersei is my sister. I may have broken all ties with her, but she's still family.”

Brienne's heart sank; she knew that was the case, and somehow-- still!-- she wished for him to get past his devotion to the queen. She made to walk away when Jaime seized her arm again.

“Wait. I have not finished yet.”

She narrowed her eyes, impatient, but waited for him to continue.

“Whatever feelings I had for Cersei are now gone. I don't love her anymore. At least, not… in that sense. I suppose that should clearly tell you about my relationship with Cersei as it stands today. Yes, I did love her once, but all that is in the past, now.”

His voice cracked as he mentioned Cersei. He sounded heartbroken. Despite her anger, Brienne couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. He had loved Cersei more than anything else, beyond reason, and the realization that he was just a pawn in his sister’s hunger for power had snapped something inside him. Brienne felt an urge to take him in her arms, to hold and comfort him, and chided herself for her weakness.

Jaime plowed on, merciless despite the misery Brienne felt. “About the way I treated you while on the trip to King's Landing…  that, I admit, I am guilty of. I have this odd habit of saying things to mask my true emotions. That's what those insults about your looks were.”

Brienne took a moment to digest his words, but they only confused her further. What did he mean by ‘true emotions’?

“Brienne, as I got to know you, my feelings for you slowly changed. Do you think I tell everyone I meet about the mad king? You are the only one I have ever spoken to about it. Yes, I saved you from rape out of chivalry, but leaping into that bear pit…” He sighed. “That was definitely something more. Do you think I jumped in there, handless and weaponless, just because I wanted my honour back? I was an idiot then, too full of Cersei to realize the true motivation behind my actions.”

She remembered his delirious confession at Harrenhal. He had told her something he had never in his life revealed to anyone, not even Cersei. Brienne’s opinion had mattered to him, then, more than anyone else’s. He had said he trusted her. How many people outside his family did Jaime Lannister actually trust?

Was it possible that he had come all the way back for her, risking his life to fight a bear, because he cared for her? Even after rescuing her, he was ready to die for her when Locke refused to send her with him. Could it be that he felt the same for her as she did? Her heart leaped at the thought, but she dared not hope, lest she might be mistaken.

Jaime was agitated as he continued, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “Do you know the first thing that came to my mind when I entered Riverrun with Edmure? When I looked down at you from those ramparts, and saw you sailing away, all I wanted was for you to get away safely. For the first time in my life, I feared my own men, feared that they might kill you. I took Riverrun without bloodshed only because you asked. I would've done anything for you, that day.”

_It's yours. It will always be yours_ , he had said, when she had tried to return Oathkeeper. She had not failed to notice his tender expression, or how his voice had been so soft as he refused to accept the sword. She had not missed seeing the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and his teasing little smirk when he addressed her as _Lady Brienne._

And she remembered the heartbroken look on his face as they shared a tentative last wave when she rowed away with Pod. The way he looked at her every time they parted, in fact. Hope hammered at the shell around her heart, making the first little crack.

“You say that I find you ugly, which I certainly do _not_ ,” Jaime said, impassioned. “Last night was a bad joke. I was rude to you, said things I didn’t mean. Once again, I apologise for that. I never thought it would upset you so much. I just… I never know what to say to you, if it’s not teasing. What you fail to see, Brienne, is that I think of you far more highly than…. than _anything_. Honest, simple, innocent, noble, righteous, loyal… I confided in you. I bared my soul to you. You have seen me at my worst. You have made me the man I am today. And it is because of you that I am here today.”

Brienne stared at him, knowing her shock was clear on her face. He stared back, his gaze intense, full of longing, seeming to say, _My eyes reflect my heart’s deepest desires. Do you still need me to tell you in words what I feel?_

“And, my lady... coming back to your looks, I see that you have an admirer here,” he continued, an odd note to his voice. “I saw the way that Tormund fellow was leering at you at dinner."

Jaime's expression had turned sour. _Was it a flicker of jealousy? Or anger?_ Brienne was weary of his lack of clarity. He had said she was a simple woman, and she was. She was tired of all the wordplay, all the suggestions without saying anything outright, all the mixed signals he seemed to be sending out.

“Tormund isn’t sarcastic, like you. While I agree he does not know how to behave around women, at least he--”

Brienne couldn't complete her sentence, because Jaime pressed close to her, pinning her to the tree she was leaning against, and kissed her passionately.

Completely taken by surprise, she gasped. She felt Jaime deepen the kiss, his tongue thrusting possessively into her mouth. It felt foreign, strange… but not unwelcome. She had never experienced anything like this before, and it took her a few moments before she rallied, but soon she was kissing him back, their tongues sparring in a manner reminiscent of their lone sword-fight.

Emboldened by her response, Jaime ran his left hand along her back and put his stump around her waist, clamping her tightly against him. She wound her arms around his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair, and kissed him for all she was worth. For a while, the world was forgotten.

Jaime finally slowed their kiss and leaned back to gaze at her. His eyes shone at her with unmistakable love and all the passion that had been building up within him over the years, his lips slightly swollen from the aggression of their kiss. Brienne felt a warm flush creep up her neck.

“So, my lady, what were you saying about that red-headed wildling?” he asked, giving her a wicked grin.

“I was never interested in Tormund,” she told him flatly. “He disgusts me.”

Jaime pulled her close again. He leaned towards her, pressing his forehead against hers, then kissed her cheek. The feel of his beard against her face evoked sensations in her that she never knew she could feel: lust, yes, but also safety, intimacy… love. Gods, so much love.

He went on to kiss her neck, his warm breath stirring a pleasant ache of desire in her. _Thank the gods and Sansa for this dress and its deep neckline_.

When he reached her collarbone, he pressed his lips to it and growled, “Does this convince you of my feelings, or do I need to demonstrate them further?”

Jaime planted little kisses back up the length of her throat as he continued. “I love you, Brienne, in case you have not realized it yet. I always have, right from the day I jumped into that pit. I was a fool not to realize it earlier.”

“You have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen. I love drowning in them. Your skin and hair are so soft…” He ran his fingertips over her cheek, along a stray lock curling around her ear. “Gods, I wish I had my other hand so I could touch you with both of them.”

He huffed a little laugh. “I love the way you snap at me every time I anger you. I love the way you beat me in a fight. I love seeing you in the armour I gave you. I love to see you wield Oathkeeper. I love the sound of your voice. And I _love_ the way you look in this dress. I love everything about you. I love _you_ , Brienne. And if that... _Tormund..._ ever looks at you again, I swear to all seven gods, I will gouge his eyes out.”

Brienne pulled away from him, the tears she’d been struggling against finally falling.

“My lady? Did I offend you again?” His joy faded a little into apprehension.

Brienne smiled through her tears. “It's just that, when I woke up this morning, I never knew this would be the happiest day of my life. I never imagined I would be so hurt by your joke last night. I suppose the saying _the ones you care about most, also hurt you the most_ is true.”

“Don’t cry,” Jaime said softly, kissing away her tears. “I’m glad this happened. If it hadn’t, we would both still be stupidly battling our feelings. We have had enough of goodbyes and bottled-up emotions to last a lifetime, don’t you think?”

His smile, this time, was not a smirk, or even a grin, just a loving curve of lips. “And trust me, Brienne, your happiest day is yet to come.” He pulled her closer into his arms. “I don't know if, in your anger last night, you heard me properly. I told you that any man who saw you in that dress would ask you for your hand in marriage. I wasn't being insulting or sarcastic, when I said that."

Brienne broke away from him, shocked, knowing what was to come, elated, yet finding it hard to believe.

“Yes. I meant it. Marry me, Brienne,” Jaime said, with so much love in his voice that her heart squeezed almost painfully. Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, she could only nod and smile.

He captured her lips again. “Brienne of Tarth, I foresee that you won't be a maiden for much longer. The way I feel today, I don't think I can stay away from you for long.”

Brienne melted into his arms. “Jaime…” she felt shy, demure, even, for once in her life. “I don't think being a maiden until I am married will matter to me. Holding on to it doesn’t seem much like honour anymore.” She buried her face in his chest, blushing. She wanted him so badly, it was almost painful.

“So… ” he said, his handsome features lighting up, “finally, it’s _Jaime_ now. I feared I might have to wait an eternity for you to drop the _ser,_ ” he teased, then added, “And, Brienne, your honour _does_ matter to me. I won't take you until we are married, not here and not like this. You deserve an unforgettable first time... and I am going to make sure you have it.”

He grinned mischievously at her. “Now, I have heard there's a sept close by, and today is as good a day as any other for a wedding, don’t you think? So let's go find it before my resolve breaks and you lose your title, _Maid_ of Tarth…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! Do share your comments :)


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